


into the heart of darkness

by shanlyrical



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alien Biology, Anal Sex, Besalisks, Dark, Forced Orgasm, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Umbara (Star Wars), Wall Sex, Xeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-10-27 17:54:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20764505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shanlyrical/pseuds/shanlyrical
Summary: “In the deepest, darkest part of the ocean, where sunlight cannot reach, life must make its own light.”





	into the heart of darkness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WritingCyan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritingCyan/gifts).

“In the deepest, darkest part of the ocean, where sunlight cannot reach, life must make its own light.”

This is something they like to say on the planet of Kamino, the watery world where Clone Captain Rex was grown and raised. It happens to be both literally true – Kaminoan deep sea creatures are bioluminescent – and it also has the benefit of being excellent advice for going about one’s life above the ocean waves as well. To wit, when the situation is bad, it’s up to everyone together to make it less bad. Each and every individual must do their part.

Rex has been recalling this Kaminoan aphorism with some frequency since the 501st’s arrival on Umbara. The surface of Umbara is reminiscent of the bottom of Kamino’s oceans – specifically in that the sun’s light does not reach it. And, like Kamino’s deep sea creatures, life on Umbara makes its own light. Literally. Problem is, most of that light is outside of a human being’s natural visual range. For Rex and the rest of his brothers of the 501st, Umbara is an aptly named world of shadows. If there is to be light for such as them, they will indeed have to make it themselves.

Which, needless to say, is awfully hard to do while they’re being utterly _slaughtered_ on the battlefield.

And on top of that, if the tactical situation weren’t bad enough, Rex has discovered additional…_other_…reasons to contemplate the darkness.

“Out there, they like to say that the Jedi Order expects celibacy of its members, and that’s what most of the galaxy believes,” Jedi Master and General Pong Krell says conversationally, his low voice rumbling in his throat sac.

A bitten-off moan which he cannot prevent escapes Rex’s lips, but as he wasn’t asked a question, he does not try to speak.

“This is, however, a commonly held misapprehension. The Jedi Code does not expressly prohibit sexual relations. What it _does_ prohibit is attachment. Do you know what that means?”

“N-no, sir,” Rex mumbles, trying his best to focus on General Krell’s voice and not upon the…the _rest_ of it. “If you would be so kind as to explain…”

“Well, since you asked me so politely, Captain – I’m happy to put it into plain speak for simple minds such as yourself: Jedi are allowed to fuck. We’re just not allowed to give a fuck about _whom _we fuck.”

The upper pair of General Krell’s arms hold Rex by the shoulders, keeping him pinned to the wall, while his lower pair of arms grasp his hips and adjust his buttocks, seeking the optimal angle.

Besalisks have a pair of branched hemipenes which evert from a scaly slit at their groin when aroused. Each hemipenis is as long as Rex’s forearm and as thick as his wrist at the base, and each branch is independently prehensile. Although Umbara’s gloom makes it hard to see much of anything with certainty, Rex has had too many opportunities already to become intimately familiar with the shape, texture, and taste of both of General Krell’s hemipenes.

He doesn’t want to do this; he _never_ wanted to do this. But he’s under orders, and it isn’t Rex’s place to defy direct orders from a commanding officer.

They started with hand jobs, but Rex has only two hands, not four, and General Krell was unsatisfied by that. When Rex added his mouth to the operation, General Krell was more pleased – he claimed to enjoy Rex’s warm, wet insides to a far greater degree than his dry, calloused hands.

Then they progressed to Rex’s arsehole. _Who would’ve thought such a tiny hole could stretch to accommodate so much? _General Krell had marveled as he’d used Rex in this manner with both of his hemipenes in rapid succession. _Our Besalisk females have two cunts and two wombs, you know, but in your case, my dear sweet clone captain, why, I do believe that less is in fact more!_

Rex is glad General Krell prefers to take him from behind. Face to face, he would inevitably try to see. And really, he’d rather not see.

The hemipenis wiggles its two sucker-shaped tips against Rex’s arsehole, poking and prodding and inexorably opening him like two slimy fingers. General Krell rumbles with excitement…and then he thrusts home in a single driving, ruthless stroke.

Rex gasps; it’s like being punched in the gut, and General Krell doesn’t bother to wait for him to adjust. He just holds Rex harder against the wall, belly flat, face practically smushed, his big, broad Besalisk body engulfing Rex’s smaller one, overpowering him, and commences thrusting.

It’s a wild fuck, and the rhythm is thoroughly alien. Yet the twin heads of the hemipenis reach places inside Rex which were never meant to know another’s touch. It _hurts_, no question about that, and if it weren’t for the natural lubrication, the friction would make Rex bleed and tear. But it also feels _good_, and Rex’s own single, sorry cock rises reluctantly as the relentless pounding sets his nerves alight.

He does not touch himself – cannot touch himself, in fact – for General Krell still has him pinned, and his fingers dig futilely into the wall, the nails threatening to lift from their beds. Tears leak from Rex’s eyes, and he gnashes his teeth and chews on the inside of his cheeks and his tongue because he does not want to scream, he does not want his men to know what he does for them to keep them safe from Besalisk appetites, and he does not want _General Krell_ to know what he does _to_ him—

Rex’s orgasm is forced out of him in the same moment that General Krell begins to ejaculate. They spurt in unison, Rex painting the wall with his come while General Krell’s branched hemipenis fills him with double jets of hot, Besalisk semen. Pong Krell shudders violently against Rex’s back, and his blunt, peg-like teeth sink into the base of Rex’s neck. Rex’s back arches, and he flails, and his feet lift off of the ground entirely as the orgasm seems to go on and on and on forever.

He doesn’t think General Krell uses the Force on him. He doesn’t think he needs to. Then again, how can he be sure one way or the other?

The hemipenis deflates and slips out of Rex’s arsehole with an obscene, come-soaked pop…only to be immediately replaced by the second engorged and heretofore neglected hemipenis…

“Not bad, Captain, not bad. Ready for round two?” General Krell asks.

Rex doesn’t bother to reply. He knows from past experience that his refusal will not be accepted.

As the evil deed they do starts all over again, Rex thinks once more on that old Kaminoan aphorism. The light, he knows, is up to him to make.

But the light sure does seem awfully far away as the pain and the pleasure of the fuck carries him into this heart of darkness.


End file.
